


Like Rain On To The Seeds

by S_Faith



Category: Bridget Jones's Diary (2001), Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-23
Updated: 2008-04-23
Packaged: 2019-03-15 08:39:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13609656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Faith/pseuds/S_Faith
Summary: You can't win 'em all.  And you know, that might not be such a bad thing.





	Like Rain On To The Seeds

**Author's Note:**

> Title from ["I'm Every Woman"](http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/bridgetjonessdiary/imeverywoman.htm) (Chaka Khan). Lyric excerpt from ["Dreamsome"](http://www.stlyrics.com/lyrics/bridgetjonessdiary/dreamsome.htm) (Shelby Lynne). Unsurprisingly, both songs are on the _BJD_ movie soundtrack.
> 
> Thanks to [](http://ebonybeach.livejournal.com/profile)[**ebonybeach**](http://ebonybeach.livejournal.com/) for info on late night television on that side of the pond. :) 
> 
> Disclaimer: So, _so_ not mine. 

_in the dark I can hear you whisper  
shadows still, move across the distance_

He comes in, exhausted from a long day in court, longer hours afterwards. It's never easy to wrap up after losing a case, especially so when he wants nothing more to come back to his sanctuary, the consolation he'll find in her arms. Quietly he slips out of his dress shoes, sets down his attaché, and shrugs off his suit jacket.

It's a cloudy night and the moon is new, so the flat is pitch black save for the blue flickering hues cast by the telly in the living room, playing over her sleeping form. He smiles for perhaps the first time that day at the thought that she actually tried to stay awake for him; on the table beside her sits a bowl now devoid of anything but the remnants of crisps and next to that, a half-full glass of chardonnay. He loosens his tie, unfastens the links on his cuffs, as he comes ever nearer to her. Crouching at her side, he lifts a hand and brushes a lock of hair off of her cheek. She looks perfectly angelic lying there, blanket across her lap, chest rising and falling slowly, steadily as she sleeps.

The sound on the programme's down low but loud enough to be utterly audible from her position, although he's sure it wasn't a seedy documentary that she sat down to watch. He reaches for the remote and turns the telly off. Instantly she stirs. "I was watching that," she mutters, opening her eyes. "Oh." She blinks a few more times, pushes herself up. "You're here. What time is it?"

"Far too late," he admits, lowering his hand to cover her hand, stroking her thumb with his own.

"I was waiting up."

"I can see that."

Without another word he rises to his feet, then bends to pull her to hers. She's still a little sleep-woozy, so he's careful to slip a hand around her waist to steady her gait. She's wearing a sweatshirt and trackie bottoms; his fingers accidentally manage to find the one small strip of exposed skin where the sweatshirt had ridden up, and it's like velvet. She puts her arm around him and rakes her nails across the back of his dress shirt. It's a miracle that the path to the bedroom isn't littered with clothing, books, shoes and other miscellany, so they're able to traverse the distance without incident. He walks over to turn on the bedside lamp. He doesn't doubt for a moment that his feet will find the way automatically without benefit of illumination.

"Did you win?" she asks sleepily as she sits on her side of the bed.

He doesn't say anything right away, which surely gives her an answer, but just in case, he also says, his voice nearly cracking, "No." He tears off his tie and walks back towards the door to set it over the chair, then begins unbuttoning his shirt. He turns back to her.

"Oh." She looks up at him, her eyes wide and soulful. "I know how much you wanted it." She pats the bed beside her, then holds her arm out. He's halfway down the shirt but stops to go and sit next to her. As he does she leans forward to embrace him, and he returns it in kind.

"Thank you," he says in a low tone. He presses his cheek into her hair, closes his eyes. He breathes in deeply, and the scent of her fills him with peace.

"Oh, Mark," she whispers, her breath warm on his throat. He feels her hand come up and touch his face, her fingernails raking over the short hair of his sideburn, then he feels her place a kiss at the juncture of jaw and earlobe. "I'm so sorry." She kisses him again, then a third time, forming a little triangle of light kisses, and all he knows is that he hopes she doesn't stop. "You must be exhausted," she continues softly, her fingers combing through his short curls before grazing over his shoulder. "Let's get you into bed."

He nods. He _is_ exhausted, but he also hopes she means more than sleep. 

She reaches down and works the rest of his shirt buttons open, sending his shirt over his shoulders and off. "Come on. Trousers off."

"Sweet talker," he jokes, then stands and unfastens the button at his waist, undoes the belt. He uncharacteristically lets them drop to the floor.

She clucks her tongue, then raises her legs up and swings them onto the bed, lifts her bottom to push her trackie bottoms off. They come to rest in a heap at the foot of the bed. "Everything." To demonstrate her meaning she sits upright again and pulls her sweatshirt off up over her head, then tosses it across the room. She smiles, brings her knees closer to her chest, still somewhat hesitant even now to show her naked body to him, even with as many times as he's told her he loves looking at it. He complies with her wishes, though.

As he sits again on the bed he feels her hand on his upper arm, urging him towards his traditional side of the bed and to lie back on the pillow. She flips the duvet over him to the shoulders, leans over him, and gives him what feels very much like a good night kiss, chaste and quick. She reaches over and switches off the lamp.

It suddenly seems darker than it was before, so dark he can't see her, can only feel her shifting in bed, moving closer to him, her skin against his; he can feel her breasts against his side, the soft thatch of hair against his hip. She kisses him again, another quick peck, then another. When she kisses him one more time she doesn't take her lips away and instead pushes her tongue into his mouth for a deeper kiss. He cannot help but reciprocate. As she plies him with languid kisses, her hair tickles his face, her fingers trace along his collarbone.

"Does this help?" she whispers close to his ear, leaning more heavily into him as she sweeps her bent leg to rest across his.

He nods, then realises in the dark she probably can't see him. Sliding his arm up and around to encircle her, tracing his fingers along her spine, he says in affirmative, "Mm-hm."

Her hand glides down over his chest then back up again, brushing across nipples that are suddenly but not surprisingly quite hard. "Want more help?" she says between a few more fleeting, tantalising kisses.

He doesn't say yes so much as tighten his arm around her waist, and at that she reaches around for his hip and kisses him again. His breath goes slightly ragged as her fingernails graze down across his abdomen, her target evident.

"My poor… poor… darling," she says, kissing him at each pause. "I'll make it all better."

"I know," he says, or thinks; he's not sure because at that moment her fingers brush against the firmness below, sending a veritable electrical charge through his body. He does know for sure he groans as she wraps her fingers around him, gently pulling, then pushing.

He reaches and barely skims her arm with the fingertips of the hand not currently settled at her waist, and at the slightest touch she releases him and playfully slaps his hand away. "Just lie back," she lovingly commands. "I'll take care of you." She resumes demonstrating she means what she says, coupled with tenderly taking her tongue and her teeth to the side of his neck.

He quickly realises he has no power to argue for mutual satisfaction; he just falls silent under her determined touch. Before too long he's arching his hips up into each of her downward strokes. The sounds he's making in response must be as pathetic to her ears as they are to his own because she ceases both the open-mouthed kisses and the motion of her hand. "Sounds like you've had enough of that," she says throatily. "I know what you really need."

At that she pushes back the covers and, fumbling slightly in the dark, straddles his hips; his hand falls away from her back and to the bed. She takes him in her grasp again and holds him as she descends onto him. She moans as he feels himself surrounded by the warmness, the wetness of her.

She's right, of course. It's exactly what he needs. Because of the difference in their heights, she can't easily reach him to kiss him when she does this, but she makes do; she runs her hands up along his stomach to his shoulders, placing kisses along his sternum then over his pec, running her tongue over his nipple, then teasing it with her teeth, all of this as she moves her hips up and down. The total effect is dizzyingly magnificent, and he knows it won't be long before he comes.

He feels her lips lift away from his skin at the same time she makes a soft sound of her own, and then she's pushing herself away to sit upright. He can but imagine the sight of it: her head arched back, her mouth slightly open, her eyes closed, as she continues rocking on his lap. He can still feel her hands on his waist, can feel the pressure of her fingernails in his skin, as she moans again. He pushes himself up to meet her, then takes hold of her hips to pull her into him with each of her forward thrusts. She exhales sharply every time.

It's his mouth capturing hers again, their bodies touching as she snakes her arms around his neck, that triggers his release, and he groans heavily into her mouth. He doesn't stop moving though, not until he hears her breath quicken, feels her nails raking his shoulders; when she cries out, when he feels her tightening around him, he holds her hips firmly to him and doesn't let go. Shudders rock her body and her head falls back. He is content with placing his mouth upon her throat, kissing, delicately licking then grazing his teeth on the skin there.

He wraps his arms around her waist; he settles a palm upon her back between her shoulder blades to encourage her even closer to him, if that's even possible. It seems like her whole body goes limp at once as she subsides into him, bringing her mouth to his again for a long, satisfying kiss before she breaks away with a sigh. He brings his trembling hand up to her hair, smoothing it down, before trailing down her back again.

"All better now?" she asks between breaths, her arms still linked around his neck.

"Absolutely," he murmurs.

He leans back from their sitting position, pulling her with him, then reaches for the edge of the sheet to cover them. She rests with her cheek on his shoulder, her hand splayed on his abdomen. Instinctively he knows right where her forehead is and plants a kiss at the hairline just over it. He knows nothing more needs to be said; they are content to lie there in the blackness and silence of the room. The only sound for many moments is their breathing and the ticking of a watch, probably the one he'd been looking for the other night. It's so quiet it's almost eerie; not even the trains are going by at this late hour. He thinks surely she's fallen to sleep. He's well on his way, too.

Startling him, she says, "Sorry."

He can't help but laugh low in his throat. "What on earth for?"

"I kind of lost my focus there."

"You needn't apologise," he says, turning his face to kiss her head again. "After all, the end result was more than satisfactory."

He hears the distinct sound of her lightly laughing. He momentarily squeezes his embrace, then relaxes again.

Within moments he can tell by the way she's breathing she really has fallen to sleep, as even and as calm as when he'd first come in. As he himself drifts off to sleep, his thoughts are not of his difficult day, but of the woman in his arms, and wonders how he ever got through his days and nights without her.

_The end._


End file.
